Solitary
by Stefan-sama
Summary: The aftermath of the Eyes on Me concert scene in Fisherman's Horizon. SquallxRinoa


**I've recently started replaying Final Fantasy VIII (which has much improved my opinion of it, the junction system no longer seems like useless numbers that can be sidestepped by spamming GF's), and just came across the concert scene in Fisherman's Horizon. I saved and played both the Irish Jig and Eyes on Me versions, and it turns out I much prefer the latter, minus the odd, discontinued scene directly afterwards in which Rinoa is in the library laughing at Squall's announcement. Rather than simply reaching a conclusion that changes part of Squall's character, both his and Rinoa's characters are pitted against each other, and the outcome is exactly what it should be. However, I'm only of that opinion because of what I was imagining; as the dialogue (thank you so much, Youtube) seemed a bit hurried, whether that be due to translation issues or text limitations or whatever. Thus, I wrote this to flesh out the scene and the direct consequences, and the result turned out fairly well. I think I captured Squall alright, but I think I hurried a bit of his later thoughts. **See what you think of it.** Also, I just realized that the ending is _really _similar to a certain scene in _End of Evangelion_; rest assured that was completely unintentional.**

**Solitary**

She turned around and locked her eyes with his. They were a deep, hazel brown, and seemed to pierce through his mental shield. "Wait, you're not gettin' off that easy. You still owe me an answer." He shifted his feet unconsciously.

_Answer for what? Oh…_

He nodded, sighing slightly. "Fine. I'll ask for more help when I really need it. I'll try to trust everybody more often. Okay?" he recited, unintentionally leaking out a touch of apathy.

She shook her head vigorously and placed her hands on her hips. "What is your problem! Why do you have to be like that!"

"Are you mad or something? Tell me you are, because this really can't be you!" she said, her voice rising in pitch. Little pockets of water began to tear up in her eyes.

He blinked. "I'm sorry."

She threw her arm to the side, tears streaming openly down her cheeks now. "You're not sorry! You just wanna get the hell out of here, that's all!"

Tumbling forward, she collapsed into his arms, weeping as she clutched his sleeves. "Geez! Why does it have to be like this!"

"Why!" She pushed him away and ran for the stairs.

He stood rooted to the spot, unmoving, hollow.

* * *

><p>An hour passed, and he still hadn't moved. The music had long stopped playing. He tried moving his arm. The gloved hand in front of him flexed, but he hadn't felt it. He shook his head once more and tried to walk. One foot tripped over the other slightly, but he slowly began moving.<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, Irvine and the others stared down at him from the brightly lit stage as he passed and exchanged furtive glances among themselves, though they stayed silent. He made no motion of acknowledgement and walked to the stairs.

The stairs leading from the stage to the elevator was a long one, but it felt all the same to him, as did the ever-tedious lift to the Garden. The operators tried making conversation, but he ignored them as they ascended. Finally, he staggered through the sliding doors and into the Garden.

The halls were only dimly lit, and there was no-one in sight. The only sound came from the shuffling of his feet echoing off the walls. Through the hall, down the elevator, around the infirmary, the Quad, the cafeteria, down the dormitory hall, to his room: he repeated the directions to his bed mechanically, in lieu of any other thoughts.

He passed Rinoa's room; a temporary one, with her name printed on tape and stuck to the door, with the words "and Angelo" scrawled messily underneath in pink. Pausing, he took a moment to listen. From inside, he could hear muffled sobbing. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped his hand a millimeter away. Another hour seemed to pass, with only the crying filling his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to knock. He turned and went into his own room.

There was no light to speak of; the space was completely black. He didn't switch on the light, stumbling over a stack of issues of Weapons Monthly as he collapsed onto the bed with a muffled thump. He turned over on his back, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling he couldn't see. The darkness was almost suffocating. He threw his jacket off, across the room.

He closed his eyes and attempted to empty his head. Sleep would solve everything, or at least help him stop thinking. He hated thinking; it always led him to conclusions, and conclusions were always troublesome. He had no such luck.

_What is it about her? Why can't she just leave me alone?_

_I don't want her to leave me alone._

_Of course I do. She's always laughing or smiling or crying or doing something or other. It gets in the way of things._

_Like what? Holing up by myself, shutting her and everyone else out?_

_Yeah, that. _

_What for?_

_Because I hate it. Everything's going to end eventually, there's no sense in getting close to people now. It's only going to hurt me when it ends. And them._

_That's ridiculous._

_How's it ridiculous? This is the least painful way._

_So I'm a coward, then._

_No, I'm being logical._

_How is it logical if I'm so afraid of losing everyone that I won't get close to them in the first place?_

_Getting close to people is a pain. I'm going to have to depend on them, and they're going to have to depend on me._

_So I don't want responsibility. I'm lazy._

_No, I just don't want to let people down! I can't disappoint them, and if I get too close to them, they'll depend on me, and I'll let them down when they need it, and it'll be my fault when they're hurt!_

_If I don't want to hurt people by staying away from them, what the hell am I supposed to call the crying girl across the hall?_

Something caught in his throat and he stopped arguing with himself. He could still faintly hear her sobbing through the wall. His throat tightened further.

What the hell_ was_ he doing?

He didn't want to hurt. He didn't want others to hurt. He'd established that years ago, and it'd worked for him fine with everyone he'd met. But now, she was here, he'd tried to push her away, and he felt pain. Pain, pain that drove into his mind, pain that constricted his heart, pain that slowly suffocated out his very breath. He writhed on the bed and bit back a scream, clutching desperately at his chest with one hand and the folds of the sheets with the other, trying madly to anchor himself to reality.

Slowly, ever slowly, his breathing returned to as normal as it would go, his chest rising and falling heavily as he gasped for air, though his insides ached yet.

What was it about her? By any of his previous standards she should be an unmitigated annoyance. Yet, this pain: did he want to get close to her after all? For her to always be at his side, and him at hers? To never be separated from her?

Yes, and that was unacceptable.

He tried and failed once more to empty his mind.

She turned in the darkness, radiating her own gentle light as her silken raven hair flowed around her in a perfect arc. She smiled. She pouted. She laughed. She cried. She embraced him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she rested her head on his chest.

With a start, he realized his hand had slipped unconsciously down his pants.

_That's fucking sick._

He retched and rolled over, closing his eyes and going to sleep as he listened to the last of her crying.


End file.
